Gorata knew her friend. She was pretending that it wasn’t a big deal but it was just that – pretence. Kelebogile had met this man a few months before and barely a day passed without a Mark story. Kelebogile rarely had boyfriends and nothing was ever casual.
But Gorata decided to leave the issue for now. They both knew inviting Mark to the game tomorrow was a very big deal. A huge deal. “So Alfred’s taking me to Chez Louis tonight.”
“Hmmm.” Kelebogile continued looking out of the window.
“What’s ‘hmmm’?”
“I’m just wondering how much a meal costs at that place.”
“Please, Kele, not everything is political. Can’t we just go out for dinner?”
“Sure, yeah . . . but . . . it’s a waste of money. He might spend more than a thousand rand at a place like that. But anyway, let me stay out of it.”
Gorata pulled into the filling station a few blocks from their small house in Soweto. She was the owner of the house, if you discounted the bank which held the mortgage, but she would never have been able to afford it if Kelebogile hadn’t moved in with her.
“Oh, there he is,” Kelebogile said, nodding her head towards the man walking up to the driver’s window. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a thin, tidy waist that his yellow polyester petrol attendant uniform could not hide, no matter how ugly it was. He was smiling and Gorata could see his deep dimples long before he was near enough to speak. Suddenly everything felt lighter, as if the sun had come out from behind some clouds.
“Dumela, Lady Gorata,” he said when he was at the window, leaning in, speaking just above a whisper. “You look exceptionally beautiful this fine spring afternoon.”
Gorata couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Dumela, Ozee. Full tank, please.”
He bowed and went off to attend to her command. Kelebogile whispered, “He’s so cute.”
“Yeah,” Gorata said. No one could deny Ozee was handsome – gorgeous, actually. And Gorata had to admit that she liked the way he flirted with her every time she stopped at the petrol station, which was part of the reason she filled her car nowhere else.
“And he likes you.” Kelebogile looked straight at Gorata the way she did when they had a heart-to-heart.
“He’s just doing his job.”
“No, he likes you,” Kelebogile insisted.
“Yeah, maybe. But . . . he’s not . . . right.”
Kelebogile’s voice changed. “Why? Because he works at a petrol station?”
“No . . . not that exactly . . . It’s just . . .” Gorata knew Ozee liked her and she couldn’t deny she was happy when she pulled up and found him on duty, but she could never be serious about a man who was a petrol attendant. Kelebogile was making as if she was some uppity woman looking down on him, but it was more complicated than that.
Kelebogile was still looking at her, expecting an explanation.
“Judge me if you want,” Gorata said, “but let’s say I start dating Ozee and it gets serious and we get married. How is it going to be when I’m earning probably three times his salary? No man can handle that, no matter how modern he might be. It would put an end to the relationship. I know it and you know it – and he probably knows it too. It’s no use starting something when you already know it will end in disaster.”
“Yeah, maybe you have a point – but you don’t know him. Maybe this is a stop along the way, maybe he has some bigger plans for his life. Besides, even if he is permanent and pensionable as a petrol attendant, he’s way ahead of the guys you’ve been dating lately.”
“Kele, that’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? Let’s do a roll call. First we have Alfred. Anal Alfred. Materialistic, clean – freaky Alfred.”
Gorata said nothing. She was just a couple of hours away from a date with the man and everyone was putting him down. He wasn’t that bad. She liked him. She really did. She was sure he had many good points that Kelebogile and Amita just couldn’t see and that she couldn’t elaborate on – at the moment.
“Okay, let’s go on to number two.” Kelebogile held up three fingers and hit the middle one with her other index finger. “Showa Matenge. Politics – good. Handsome – a point. But I’m warning you now, I don’t trust him. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I don’t trust him. Too slick.”
“I’m not dating him,” Gorata said. “You know I never date more than one man at a time.”
“Maybe you’re not dating him yet, but he’s in the queue. Getting ready to join the long chain of candidates for the position of Mr Right. You’re treating this husband-hunting business like a job interview; if they don’t get enough ticks against their name, they get a formal rejection letter.”
“Kele, that’s taking it too far, you know.”
“Maybe, but I don’t like Showa, he’s not right for you at all.”
“What’s wrong with Showa? I like him. He’s caring and very sincere. I would think he’d be your favourite. He worked himself up from nowhere to being a very successful businessman.”
“Yeah well, I still don’t like him. And besides, he’s kind of old. What has he been doing all of this time?”
“He’s not that old, he’s only thirty-seven. And he was sorting out his business, that’s why he didn’t have time for women. You’re really being unfair.”
“Am I? You know him better than me. Do you trust him?” Kelebogile’s eyebrows rose in the way that meant she already knew the answer.
“Sure, why not?” Gorata hardly knew Showa at all. They had not dated, but he made it clear that he wanted to, always hanging around her office. She told him she was seeing someone, though that didn’t deter him. He was a bit secretive, but she respected his resolve.
Kelebogile moved to the last finger. “Then we have Mr Erasmus. The crazy Wildman who may very well kill you with all his stunts if you don’t break up with him soon.”
“I told you, I broke it off with him,” Gorata protested. “I broke it off with him a long time ago.”
“Then why did you agree to go out with him next Saturday?”
“It’s not a date. He’s leaving the country. He just wants us to say goodbye. I’m not dating Johan any more, I’m dating Alfred.”
Why couldn’t Kelebogile understand? It was difficult to find the person who was perfect for you. You had to kiss a pile of frogs to find your prince, right? Everyone knew that. Gorata couldn’t help that her frog pile was becoming exceptionally high. Maybe she had bad luck.
“You’re being very cruel, Kele, you know that? I can’t help it if my Mr Right is taking so long to show up.”
Kelebogile’s hand touched Gorata’s arm. “Why do you do this to yourself? Why not just wait until the right man comes along? Why go out with every guy hoping he’ll be the one? I know you have your so-called ‘Big Plan’, but you can’t force it. In the real world that doesn’t happen. Forget your stupid goal. Just hang in there and wait – the perfect man is going to find you.”
Gorata knew her romantic life was a bit of a mess. But what else could she do? Time was running out. She didn’t want to be an old maid, sitting in a big, empty house with her two cats and an overweight dog called Molly.
“What if the right man never comes along?” Gorata